


we'll spoil it if we move

by almond_blossoms



Series: overture [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Boys In Love, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Gets a Hug, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good Boyfriend Steve Rogers, He gets several, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Insecure Bucky Barnes, M/M, Recovery, Steve Rogers Feels, very briefly and not graphic at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:54:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23283580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almond_blossoms/pseuds/almond_blossoms
Summary: He tensed in Steve’s safe arms. He was out of practice. Hadn’t been allowed to voice his tangle of thoughts for so long.“You’re my fella, Buck. I just wanna keep you here with me.”“I’m not who I used to be.”“Neither am I. Everything’s different, but I still love you. Never stopped.”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: overture [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670587
Comments: 6
Kudos: 83





	we'll spoil it if we move

**Author's Note:**

> title from “this never happened before” from the musical "bonnie&clyde"

_"you ain’t got nothing to prove_  
_just lyin’ with you is perfect_  
_we’ll spoil it if we move"_

* * *

“Stevie, I don’t know if I’m worth all this.”

It hurt just as much each time Bucky muttered some sort of variable of those words. Maybe even more so as time passed. Steve had learned not to look at him with pity, but still not brush it off. Going overboard with affection didn’t do him any good either. It was like walking on a tightrope; one faulty step was all it took. Steve had gotten pretty good at keeping his balance.

“What do you mean?” Steve inquired in a gentle tone. He and Bucky were in bed, a late Sunday morning. Their legs were tangled together, and Steve was curled almost protectively around Bucky from behind, a steady hand on the brunet’s chest. He couldn’t see his face, but as he carded his fingers through Bucky’s tangled hair, he could imagine his furrowed brow that he always wanted to smooth out, and the slightly downturned corners of his mouth. “Hmm?” he probed, a kiss to the back of his head, when Bucky remained silent, only placing his own hand over Steve’s on his chest. Steve could feel his heart rate increase fractionally. He was thinking. Trying to figure out how to voice everything going on in his head.

“Everything… You do so much for me, and I just… Nothing.”

Back in the day, Bucky had a way with words. Could sweet talk nearly everyone. Now, though, words were hard. He was getting better. Much better. But he still, deep down, associated speaking freely with punishment. Repercussions. When those rare moments of clarity occurred simultaneously with him being out of his muzzle, voicing his thoughts equaled pain. He tensed in Steve’s safe arms. He was out of practice. Hadn’t been allowed to voice his tangle of thoughts for so long.

“You’re my fella, Buck. I just wanna keep you here with me.”

“I’m not who I used to be.”

“Neither am I. Everything’s different, but I still love you. Never stopped.”

“I love you too.” Bucky _always_ said it back. Made a point of it. Several times, he’d called Steve back immediately after hanging up because he realized Steve had added an _I love you_ at the end that his mind didn’t register right away. “I feel… less like me,” he clarified. “I remember us back then, and I was _more_.”

“No, you were young. _We_ were young. And loud, and bold, and stupid. Now we’re just two old men,” Steve attempted to soothe, and got a small laugh out of Bucky. More of a quick, heavy exhale through his nose, to be completely honest, but he knew there was a smile on his face.

“Steve,” Bucky sighed because Steve was being difficult on purpose.

“I’m not pulling your leg here, baby, you know that.”

Bucky wriggled around in his hold until they were face to face. For a second, Bucky just looked, and Steve held still until Bucky moved in for a kiss. Of all the things in the world, _that_ was what felt most like home. Moving one hand up to gently take hold of Bucky’s hair, Steve felt him melting against him, prompting him to hold onto him even tighter.

Regaining some control, Bucky pushed himself up, straddling Steve, who let out a surprised noise against Bucky’s mouth that was completely ignored. Letting his hands wander, Steve reveled in the feeling of Bucky’s skin moving against his own, only separated by their boxers.

“Buck, baby,” Steve breathed when Bucky moved his attention to his neck instead, locating his sweet spot right away like he always did. “ _Oh_.” The feeling of Bucky grinding against him, had Steve grabbing onto Bucky’s hips tightly out of instinct. It’d been _so_ long, but it was still all familiar, locked into his muscle memory forever.

They’d only gone this far once after they found each other again on the other side of seventy years of cold. And it had lead to the most devastating, painful night of Steve’s life when he learned what they’d done to his Bucky. Still, he didn’t want to stop him. He wanted to let him test his own boundaries.

“Baby,” he sighed, the feeling of Bucky grinding down on his dick going straight to, well, his dick. “Oh, god, Buck.”

Bucky stopped trying to make hickeys that’d last for longer than a few minutes, instead opting for hiding his face in the crook of Steve’s neck, muffling his small sounds. Steve had always thought he sounded so sweet for him, always telling him not to hide. His hips kept moving, though, almost impatiently.

“Slow down, Buck, we’ve got all the time in the world,” Steve whispered to him, and the next sound Bucky made had all his alarms going off. He was crying. Taking a breath to clear his mind, Steve realized his neck was wet with Bucky’s tears, but Bucky was still moving. “Stop, _stop_ , Bucky,” he almost panicked, trying to stop him with the grip he had on his hips. Bucky listened, always listened, stilling against him, and let himself go limp on top of Steve, pushing his face even harder into Steve’s neck to muffle his sobs that he couldn’t keep back any longer.

“What’s wrong w-with me?” Steve could make out, his heart breaking into a thousand pieces at how desperate and anguished his sweetheart sounded, unable to stop his crying. Steve let him hide.

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong with you,” he told him softly, but left no room for Bucky to disagree. _Nothing_ was wrong with his Bucky, and Steve would love to get his hands on everyone whoever hurt Bucky in any way right about now.

Steve could make out a scoff in between his crying. “It’s been six months, Steve.” He sounded cold. “I should be able to! You shouldn’t have to deal with this,” he sniffled, pulling away from Steve.

“I don’t care how long it’s been. I don’t care if it’ll be forever, I just need _you_.”

Bucky shot up at that, sitting up straight, thighs still bracketing Steve. “I’m not me!” he shouted, painting a soul-crushing image with his red eyes and tear tracks. “You’re my boyfriend, and I-- I can’t even get hard for you!”

“I don’t care about that, baby,” Steve reassured him, gently tugging on his arm. “Let me just hold you.”

“Just wanna make you happy,” Bucky admitted, practically deflating, going wherever Steve directed him until his head was resting on Steve’s chest, a hand on his warm stomach.

“As long as I’ve got you, I’m the happiest man alive.” He pressed soothing kisses along Bucky’s hairline, stroking his back to calm him. The occasional sob still shook the brunet’s body, but his crying had calmed down. “Anything you’ll give me, as long as you’ll have me.”

“I want to give you everything,” Bucky countered, lifting his head for a kiss. When he shifted and tried to take it further again, Steve pulled away, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear before guiding him back to his chest. Bucky was uncertain of himself that way, and Steve told him again and again that he had absolutely nothing to prove to him, even though it sometimes seemed impossible to get through that thick skull of his.

“Shh, baby, we’ll spoil it if we move,” Steve whispered, pressing his lips to his hair. “Just let me hold you, okay?”

He felt Bucky nod, and was pretty sure Bucky would be clinging to his shirt if he’d been wearing one. He loved Bucky with all his heart, and then some, so it hurt to see him like this. Insecure, lost, frustrated, confused. If he could take all the hurt from Bucky and feel it for himself instead, he’d do so without a doubt. Just wanted for him to be happy. To feel good things. Steve could make him smile, but it never lasted. They were safe, but Bucky never stopped looking over his shoulder. Neither did Steve.

Once, when they were nineteen, Steve had fallen down from a chair trying to reach the top shelf, and bruised a few ribs. Having the air knocked out of him caused an asthma attack, and he really couldn’t _breathe_ , and it hurt so much, and the petrified look in Bucky’s eyes haunted him for years to come.

On a bad day, Bucky’s eyes looked just like that, and nothing helped. Didn’t matter how many songs Steve sang, how many kind words Steve spoke, or how long Steve held him. He was stuck there, and the only thing that would eventually pull him out of it was that he knew he was scaring Steve.

Everything Steve did helped, and he hated himself for not being able to voice that; or even just show him. “I love you, Stevie,” he said, voice muffled by Steve’s firm chest, and he felt it rumble as he hummed.

“I love you too, Bucky.” If he could just hold onto that, maybe he’d be okay. “Nat told me about this movie the other day,” Steve began, and Bucky could cry from happiness when he got to just listen to Steve talk. Somehow Steve knew, but they both stopped questioning things like that a very long time ago. With the way Steve’s fingers danced across his back in a halfhearted massage, Bucky knew that this whole thing was designed for him to relax. He let himself melt, trusting Steve with his entire being, and wished he could just crawl inside his chest and stay there forever, surrounded by kindness and warmth. Never mind whether he was worth it or not.

He held onto Steve the way he always had, and tried to think back to what they’d been before. Then he stopped because everything was different. But if he closed his eyes, yes, then he could pretend. They were Steve and Bucky, and _nothing_ more.

When Steve had gone quiet, Bucky spoke up. “Why don’t you sing me that song?” He’d uttered those words so many times there was no way he’d ever trip up on them.

“Oh, that song?” He could hear Steve smiling.

“Yeah, Stevie, that song,” he said, a smile playing on his lips too. It caught him off guard whenever that happened without him meaning to. It felt good. Easy and light.

The song that they’d slow danced to in their kitchen, Steve standing on Bucky’s feet because the floor was cold and Bucky was a worrywart. _I Wished On The Moon_ had followed them for almost a century, and it was theirs. Bucky felt a strange ownership over the song, unwilling to share it with anyone but Steve. Like it was a secret, sacred melody. He only realized he was crying when Steve wiped his tears away, a tender look on his face, and the soft singing didn’t stop.

Bucky let himself float, but Steve’s touch tethered him, not letting him fade away. He felt him touch his shoulder, and only tensed a little bit. His instant response was still that someone touching it always meant pain, but Steve’s featherlight touch was, day by day, reminding him that they couldn’t hurt him anymore.

Steve compared to _them_ was probably the biggest contrast in Bucky’s life. Steve never intended harm, never ordered, never expected. He only loved him and did his all to make sure Bucky never doubted that for even a second. And when he did, Steve was right there to remind him.

“Wanna get up?” Steve whispered to him, thought that perhaps a change of scenery would do them good. He got his answer when Bucky just pressed closer to him.

“No,” Bucky still said, and pressed a kiss to Steve’s chest. It made Steve’s insides flutter with happiness, and he’d hold onto it as tightly as he could, because Bucky was _happy_. That wasn’t a given, and, for once, he was eternally grateful for his advanced eidetic memory. He carefully cataloged each and every one of Bucky’s smiles because he didn’t know when he’d see one next.

“Okay,” Steve smiled, and he’d be happy if this was all life was. Steve and Bucky, Bucky and Steve. Together, never to part ever again.


End file.
